


Arabesque

by rayrayswimusic



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dancer AU, M/M, Other Relationships to Be Added - Freeform, Royalty AU, Slow Burn, Viktor not Victor used, i dont like tagging everything early and giving away secrets, long fic, so watch the tags and notes, will eventually deal with homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:06:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9984428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayrayswimusic/pseuds/rayrayswimusic
Summary: Being royal doesn’t mean perfection.Being common doesn’t mean imperfection.And sometimes, mistakes happen? But sometimes it’s okay.





	1. Arabesque Penchee

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first attempt of fully entering the yuri on ice fandom! With the AU combination no one asked for, but everyone needs.
> 
> Thank you very much to my amazing betas [@yourplisetsky](http://yourplisetsky.tumblr.com)/[Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/seaworn/pseuds/seaworn) and [@daiyanodumpster](http://daiyanodumpster.tumblr.com)/[Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/doeinstinct)

**_In._ ** _Out._

 _In._ **_Out._ **

A constant cycle of the mantra helped him to slowly calm down. He groaned pitifully, as the much needed air flowed through his body. It filled his lungs, spreading through the cavity with a life-sustaining roar. His chest heaved as he tried to keep control of himself. He could feel the bile climbing up his throat, but he quickly pushed it down, and followed that with a glass of cool water. His head was pounding, the panic of the moment setting his mind down a painful route.

Patting himself with a moist towel, as his entire body had broken into sweat, he glanced up at the mirror in front of him. He didn’t see the alluring, confident, beauty that most saw. He saw the fear in his eyes, the small bruise on his shoulder from where he had landed badly in practice, the mussed up hair from pulling on it. Tears pooled at his eyes, just above the large purple bruises that dotted his under-eye. He rarely got enough sleep, his body crying out for rest, but his mind always saying it wasn't enough. His mouth curved into a perpetual frown — an appealing pout by most — though he tried to lift the corner of his lips up into a semblance of a smile, producing a pained grimace.

But most all, he saw the lack of talent filling his every pore. The uncouth manner with which he stood, the terror leaving every hair on his body on edge, the sadness in his face. All spoke of one who was not accustomed to such a skill-based life.

Yet as he dragged the skin tight costume over his body, ignoring the remarks in his head which spoke about the pudginess he’d never been able to work off or the stretch marks from constant weight gain and loss, he felt more alive than he had all night.

Looking back into the mirror, he ignored the voices in his head and focussed on making his face presentable. Eyeliner brought the power to his eyes, but the mascara brought the doe-like look he was famous for. However, it was the simple yet elegant swipe of clear balm on his lips that completed the beautiful look.

Taking another deep breath, he pulled his lips into a smirk, winking at his own reflection. He could feel himself beginning slip into his performance persona. The final touch to pull stage persona out was his hair. Brushing his hair back, he pulled it back into a small bun though a few stray hairs escaped their tight confines.

He slowly stepped back from the mirror, his eyes running down the reflection of his entire body. He still avoided looking to his own eyes, not wanting to see the struggles in them, yet he knew that eventually he would have to. He began stretching his body for the strenuous activity that he’d be doing very soon. His thoughts were still occupied with his panic from before, but slowly he began entering a completely focussed mindspace.

Placing his hands on his hips, he kept his entire body motionless before slowly rotating his head from side to side. Up, and down, he moved his head, trying to awaken his neck. Rolling his shoulders and then rotating his arms around, he brought the muscles there to attention. Using his right arm, he pulled his left arm to the side and breathed deeply, feeling the slow burn building as he held it for two counts of eight.

He had already warmed his lower body up beforehand through some jogging, but after his panic attack, his muscles had begun cooling down once more. Thus, he began doing more dynamic stretches alongside his usual stretches.

Knowing that he would be forced to stretch his body beyond the extent most humans were able to, he took care to make sure that all of his positions were strong. He sighed, brooding over the time his legs had cramped in a performance. Flinching, he closed his eyes, already remembering the mortification he’d felt. His eyes slowly flickered open before sitting down onto the ground, keeping his hands on his lap. As he would be doing quite a few splits and leg stretches, he began with extending his legs and touching his toes, and then further, grasping his heels.  He held it for a little while, smiling through the familiar pain.

Slowly building up through his stretches, from sitting in a straddle position and reaching out, to doing his lunges. Stepping into a forward lunge, he kept his back straight as his front leg slipped forward, and held the flexed form for thirty seconds. Then he stood once more before gliding into the forehead lunge. He straightened his front leg and arched his back over, his hands crossing over to lace over his lower calf. The stretch was much more evident here, but he relished in the pain.

The warming of his muscles slowly began melting the tension in his body, his confidence slowly improving. He still felt nervous, unhappy, and uncomfortable with himself, but his mind had begun to rewind, to suppress the panic. He had dealt with his anxiety almost all of his life, yet he found that even when he surrounded himself with supportive people he got in his own way.

Standing up, he moved to the side of the room, and swiftly lifted his left leg onto the barre. Keeping it straight, he reached over with his right arm, breathing in through his nose and then exhaling out slowly through his mouth. Holding that pose for thirty seconds, he then switched to his other leg and did the same motion again. Continuing with his barre stretches, he allowed himself to slip into one of his favourite stretches, extending his left leg to the side of his body, he held onto his foot tightly, while his other hand grasped onto the barre keeping his support.

Finally, he let go of his foot, only to pivot on his right foot and turn to face the barre once more. His arms switched positions to grasp the bar at a much farther position, pulling his core into a deep arch. His right arm then grasped his raised knee, pulling it up straight. He let himself bask in the beautiful stretch of the _arabesque penchee_ before slowly letting his body down after a minute.

Pressing his hands against the mirror, he twisted his hips to the side, his final stretch. As he finished, he finally glanced up, seeing his nose barely brushing the reflective glass. A soft smirk stretched across his lips as he saw the final bit of tension leave his shoulders. Staring at his eyes, he was relieved to see that they had finally cleared, leaving his calm and focussed self behind.

Yuuri Katsuki was finally ready to take the stage by storm, to put all of him out there. _Eros was ready to appear_.

—

The doors made a soft creaking sound which was luckily lost in the cacophony of the backstage. A small grin rested on his lips as he walked through the bustling group of courtesans and court dancers. This was his home, he could feel the pre-performance jitters in performers and the managers. There was a strong smell of sweat and almost overwhelmingly strong perfume.

He noticed a group of resting performers all clumped in the back, clearly already performed, seeing as they were all covered in sweat. Backup dancers were essential to every performance. There was just something so freeing yet homely about dancing in a group of talented people.

Noticing a few of his friends, Yuuri waved at them before looking around the room. Spying the man he’d been looking for, he walked over. Taking a shaky breath he tapped Giacometti-san on the shoulder. Sometimes Yuuri was still in awe that he was allowed to work with such an amazing group. Giacometti had been in the ballet industry for a couple years longer than Yuuri, with his more _unique_ style of ballet really taking the stage by storm.

Seeing the tight smile on his face, Yuuri tilted an eyebrow, confused since majority of the performances should have already been completed by the time Yuuri had gotten ready.

“Giacometti-san, is everything okay? You seem...worried?” Yuuri placed a hand gently on the other’s shoulder, before quickly removing it. He had never grown comfortable with much physical contact, especially with Japan being such a traditional country. Even his parents weren’t overly loving towards him. Truthfully, excessive physical contact terrified Yuuri thus he tended to keep it brief if he couldn’t avoid it.

“Yuuri~ I thought I told you that Chris was fine! I mean...if you’d like some other names,” Giacometti’s voice dropped to a deeper tonality, his voice soft and almost caressing Yuuri’s face, “I’m not opposed to any you would choose.” An arm had snaked around Yuuri’s waist, pulling him flush against the other man’s body which produced a stark blush on Yuuri’s face.

Placing his hands firmly on Giacom— _Chris’_ —chest, Yuuri pushed him away lightly, and took a step back. Summoning up his courage, even as his face burned, he replied while smirking, “But Chris...I couldn’t do that. What about Stéphane?” He could see the surprised look on Chris’ face and just continued speaking. “Anyway, what happened? You really looked upset?”

Chris’ face showed worry before he replied, “well, you know Sasha? She was supposed to close after you? As the most experienced courtesan and dancer.” The worry soon melted into a smirk as his eyes suddenly brightened with a thought. “She’s sick, and I know you don’t like performing last. But what if you did this time?  I know that the last time wasn’t... _perfect_.”

No, perfect definitely wasn’t the word to describe his last performance. Even thinking of that time turned his stomach to knots. Closing his eyes, Yuuri forced the contents of his stomach down as he took a deep breath. It was time to try again. He couldn’t let it hold him back anymore. He hurt, but there was still something he felt he could give to the dancing world. Forcing his eyes open, he looked at Chris, ignoring the flicker of concern that passed across the man’s face, and spoke softly.

“I’ll do it. I can’t let that performance stop me.”

The large grin that spread across Chris’ face was enough for Yuuri to feel nervous once more, yet there was a sort of confidence in him. Someone believed enough in him, even after his mistakes.

He took a deep breath and headed towards the doorway, waiting for his cue to enter the royal court. He sat down against the wall, bringing one of his legs up to his chest and crossed his arms gracefully around it. A couple of the other performers from that night walked towards him. His friend, Phichit Chulanont, and a couple of the younger courtesans—Guang Hong Ji and Leo de la Iglesia. Having seen Yuuri looking at them, Phichit clapped his hands together, his bright smile infectious, pulling a small smile from Yuuri.

“Yuuri! I heard that you’re going to perform the final dance! I’m so happy for you.” Phichit gracefully sunk down to sit beside him, motioning for Guang Hong and Leo to sit down as well. Nodding his head in thanks, Yuuri took another deep breath, expelling the air from his lungs slowly. He was extremely nervous to perform as the last dancer, knowing that his performance would be the one most easily remembered. Yet, he couldn’t help the rush flowing through him at the thought of being able to perform.

Phichit reached out to grab his hand, squeezing gently. Yuuri glanced at their hands, his eyes slowly travelling up Phichit’s arm to lock eyes with him. Smiling gently, Phichit spoke, “I know you’re worried, but I really believe in you. It’ll go amazing this time. I _promise_.” At that Leo and Guang Hong also chimed in their words of support, which made Yuuri’s smile grow larger. He took another deep breath, and squared his shoulders before nodding at Phichit.

_“I can do this.”_

Hearing the soft steps of someone walking, he saw a younger boy hovering near their group obviously wanting to say something but not wanting to interfere. Smiling what he hoped was a reassuring smile, he beckoned the boy to come over, “you can join us. We’re not busy or anything.” At first Yuuri thought he’d come join them, even Phichit and the others were nodding, but to their astonishment, tears built up in the younger boy’s eyes.

Scrambling up, Yuuri walked over quickly, worry filling his entire body. “Are you okay, are you hurt? Did I do something? Is everything okay? What’s wrong?” He threw out the questions hoping for an answer but only received an extremely watery smile and a few hiccups. However, the younger boy looked fine to him at the least.

“Katsuki-senpai!” The younger boy wailed slightly, pulling a surprised gasp from Yuuri’s lips. He hadn’t heard much Japanese since he’d stepped into Russia a few months prior. Minako-sensei had been quick to switch to Russian to keep him fluent. Furthermore, a younger dancer knowing who he was? Yuuri wasn’t very popular in Russia so this was a surprise.

Coughing into his hands awkwardly, Yuuri tilted his head to the side slightly, replying slowly. “Er, yes...I’m sorry, what’s your name? Did you want something?” He walked a little closer, hoping that the younger boy, who in hindsight looked a little familiar, would be more comfortable. But, unsurprisingly, he quickly backed away, tears still in his eyes as he almost shouted his response.

“I’m okay senpai!! I can’t believe you’re speaking to me! This...this is...” the boy covered his mouth as he noticed Yuuri’s growing anxiety at the entire room’s attention on them. Taking a deep breath, he moved his hands to his side and continued speaking, “this is a dream come true. You’re...I mean I’m such a huge fan Katsuki-senpai!”

Blushing slightly, Yuuri stuttered out a reply, “oh...erm...” He chuckled awkwardly trying to act normal, but the blush on his face and uncomfort in his stance was blatant for anyone to see. Rubbing the back of his head he replied shyly, “thank you...erm what’s your nam—”

The boy quickly cut him off to shout his name before quickly slapping his hands on his mouth, “Minami Kenjirou!”

Seeing how panicked Minami looked, Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh lightly, it was cute, in an extremely loud and lively way. “Well it’s nice to meet you Minami-kun, though I have to admit...I’m not really sure why you’re so amazed to see me?” Self-consciously he looked away, glancing back at Phichit who just threw a thumbs-up at him. _Thanks Phichit_.

That question seemed to shock the younger boy who quickly began gesticulating wordlessly, opening and closing his mouth as if speaking, before realizing he hadn’t made any noise. Colouring even more, Minami took a deep breath and began speaking, “I’m a ....I’m a huge fan Katsuki-senpai! I’ve been following your dancing career for nearly ten years! You’re beautiful on the stage.”

Yuuri’s face was bright red, but it was Minami’s final words that made his face turn completely red.

“You’re the _Dance Queen_ of Japan! I’ve been trying to reach your level for years! I’m wearing your costume for my favourite performance of yours! _Lohengrin_.” Minami quickly opened the overcoat he’d been wearing to show a very familiar outfit.

Even Phichit who had been standing beside him seemed shocked. Yuuri hadn’t expected to meet anyone who knew him here from Japan. It was true in Japan that Yuuri was quite famous, holding the title of Japan’s best dancer, but really Yuuri was just a dime-a-dozen dancer. Nothing special. But before he could convey any of this to the younger dancer, Minami was quickly pulled away by one of the stage hands. It was time for Minami to perform and then Yuuri would take the stage as the final dancer.

A little while later he was standing at the closed doors that lead into the royal court. Taking a deep breath, he glanced back at the dancers who had followed him to watch his dance. Nodding awkwardly, he let the air out of his lungs. He slowly pushed open the doors with both his hands, closing his eyes for a second. His eyes burned with a passion that hadn’t been seen before.

“ _Let’s do this_.”

—

Walking into the room, his eyes moved around the room discreetly, noticing his other dancers taking the stairs to the viewing balcony. He could see courtiers speaking to each other, tittering to themselves behind their hand-covered mouths. Though he didn’t necessarily feel the confidence, he was already exuding an aura of sultriness and beauty. He had become the character he embodied in the dance — illustrious and seductive. Winking at the ladies-in-waiting he smirked at their blushes.

As he glanced around the room, his eyes inevitably moved towards grandiose royal family. But his eyes remained glued to the Crown Prince, Viktor Nikiforov, heir to the royal throne of Russia and the future Tsar. Their majesties, the Tsar and Tsarina were a truly magnificent pair, and his royal highness, Prince Yuri Nikiforov, the second in line was just as powerful a character. However, even then, Yuuri only had eyes for the older prince.

As he approached the center of the room, he bowed gracefully at the waist, giving the royal family the respect they deserved. However, unlike any other dancer, Yuuri also turned towards the rest of the room, giving a half bow in respect towards his audience. Introductions would be presented after his performance but the minute he entered the room, Yuuri was a performer. Respect was owed to the audience as much as it was owed to him.

Nodding towards the musicians, Yuuri got into position for his _act_ to begin. As the first strums of the guitar came through, he raised his arms and began the routine.

Keeping his eyes locked on Viktor’s face, he let himself pull _Eros_ into the open. He moved his arms sensually down his body, his hip cocked to the side. Licking his lips slightly he winked at Viktor eliciting a soft whistle from the Prince.

The song had originally been a story of a playboy’s games with a beautiful lady but Yuuri had never connected with the confident and strong male character. Instead he had embraced his more feminine side. He became, not the playboy, but the seductress, toying and tempting the man as he entered _her_ city.

She was the one in power, and through her dance, she kept each eye on her. Yuuri pulled every straying eye onto himself. Never allowing anyone's glance to bore.

As he danced, Yuuri kept glancing over at the prince, completely enthralled with the royal. The dance slowly reached its crescendo as he leapt into the air, smoothly completing his grand jeté. Gliding across the room, Yuuri allowed himself the moment to purely enjoy his craft.    

Dance was his salvation, and his home. There was nothing Yuuri loved more, but at times it was also the thing he hated the most. The demands of a career in dance were tough, hard to handle.

Yet, as he wound down from the final difficult step sequence, he could see that he had kept the entire audience enthralled with his enticing performance. Nearly complete, he slipped into his final stance, and his calling card. Gently lifting his left leg, he kept his body steady with his supporting right leg. His left arm extended back while his right arm stretched in front of him, pointing towards the front of the room, unintentionally towards Prince Viktor.

His hand seemed to cup Viktor's face as Yuuri settled into his final _arabesque._

The brilliant smile on Viktor's face, mirrored his own amid the bright red blush spreading across his face.

As the music died down, he put his leg down, settling back into first position before taking his bow. His eyes never left Viktor's face, and only when his head was tilted down did he look somewhere else. He was quick, however, to gaze back at the Prince once more.

His blush intensified, though his smile was steady as Viktor clapped gracefully at his performance.


	2. Battement Fondu

His eyes had wandered towards the window, losing himself in the beauty of his personal garden outside the courtyard. After the first few performances, Viktor had found himself bored, and though he had politely clapped at each one, throwing out encouraging comments as he was expected to, he found himself woefully distracted from the spectacle.

It wasn’t as if they were bad, nor that he had no knowledge of the art. However, for some reason, he found himself unable to give the talented dancers the attention they were due. He knew he was not behaving appropriately as the prince, but no matter what he did nothing was able to hold his focus. Thus, he took to pretending to watch. However, finally it was the last performance and Viktor decided to give his complete focus at least to this performer.

It was always a struggle to be the last person to take the stage, and as royalty he was always the last, to hold everyone’s attention to himself. In fact, one of his pastimes was ice skating, a sport his cousin brought in, much to the Russian royal family’s interest. And though he was very talented at skating, as the heir to the throne, Viktor had no chance of going to compete; thus whenever there were any events in Russia or their allies’ countries he would always do his best to attend. 

Focussing on the opening door, Viktor expected that the courtesan who usually completed Chris’ programs would enter, Sasha he believed was her name. However, instead it was someone Viktor had never seen before in his entire life. A tall man strutted in, oozing sensual beauty from every pore. It took all of Viktor’s etiquette and manners training to keep his mouth closed. Instead Viktor watched as he surreptitiously glanced around, never giving the Royal family a single glance. 

Interested in this new behaviour, Viktor’s lifted his eyebrow, amused as the dancer winked at the courtiers, eliciting a wave of giggles. If he was by himself, Viktor was sure he would have pouted, wanting that attention on him instead. Viktor let his eyes trail down the dancer’s body, immediately fascinated by his costume. It reminded him off his skating outfits, but stylized for the stage, with the long black, jewelled top and leggings. However it was the black half-skirt attached to one side that intrigued Viktor. Not many men, even dancers, were able to find a happy medium between their masculine and feminine sides. 

Yet, he seemed to be able to do it. Beautifully.

When the man finally directed his eyes to the front, towards the royalties, Viktor’s breath caught in his throat as they made eye contact. There was something unique about him, something that pulled Viktor's full attention to him. 

He watched as his parents nodded approvingly at his deep bow towards them, but mirrored their surprise when he turned and bowed to the rest of the court. Definitely something unique. 

But, if Viktor had thought he'd been seductive before, the dance was beyond that. Every single move was careful, beautiful and extremely seductive. Viktor couldn’t hold back the audible gulp that occurred when the dancer lifted his legs neatly into a bow shape. He’d never felt this way before, and truthfully that scared him. 

As the song came to a close, the man lifted his leg and opposite arm, pointing towards the royal family beseechingly. But to Viktor and his steadily increasing heart rate, it felt as if the hand was towards him alone. As the musicians held the last few beats, the dancer breathed deeply before setting his leg down. He returned to first position, but to Viktor's surprise his eyes stayed tightly locked on Viktor's. 

Without realizing, Viktor had begun clapping alongside the rest of the audience, but he only had eyes and focus for the dancer. The announcer thanked the musicians who'd played the entire evening which brought Viktor out of his reverie. They walked out, leaving only the man of the night in the center. Eagerly, Viktor moved forward in his seat, as if it would get him closer to knowing the dancer's name. 

However, he did not hear the name he'd expected. 

The announcer's voice was loud and inviting, filling the room with his words. "Closing off Master Danseur Chris Giacometti's beautiful program is the illustrious and intriguing Queen of the Barre, Eros." 

Surprised, Viktor sat back in his seat, his interest piqued even more. No dancers that he knew of used a stage name as they all wanted to become the best and to be known as the best. But, courtesans had been known to use different names when performing to keep the mystery of the character they portrayed. And Eros was filling in for another courtesan. It would make sense then. 

He watched Eros bow to the Royal family, and once more the audience before walking out of the room. Yet unlike the confident, sultry entrance, his exit was humble and shy. Clutching his chin, he smirked at the swinging doors, easily envisioning Eros' walk out of the room. 

"I will find you, Eros."   
\--   
Even weeks later, Viktor had had no luck in finding the elusive courtesan. He couldn't very well enter the courtesan's house as himself, but he also couldn't ask too many questions to those who would know. Being the prince was supposed to be freeing, yet instead it was often a restraint. 

In the safety of his brother's quarters Viktor allowed himself to let go and relax. Though he was still called carefree by the rest of the court advisors, teachers and even his own parents, Viktor was only truly himself around two people. Yuri and Mila.

Slumping back onto Yuri's bed, he watched as his younger brother tackled his first court case. Viktor was the crown prince, the heir to the throne, and it would be his line that would continue the Russian monarchy. 

But as second in line, Yuri was the spare heir. Normally the one who would be expected to give his life for his country in war. However, Yuri had shown an aptitude for law as a child, and even at 16 he was still studying to become Viktor's right hand in the courts as a judge. 

Truthfully, while Viktor was talented at many things, remaining objective as a bystander in an argument was hard for him. He got too emotionally involved, regardless of the matter. But Yuri. who had the tendency to get angry easily, tended to stay level headed when it came to dealing with arguments and mediation.

Viktor waited until Yuri had finished reading the latest case file he'd borrowed from the courts. He knew that until he saw Yuri's shoulders drop a little more, there was too much on his mind to listen to what Viktor wanted to say. He knew his younger brother better than he let on. 

Finally, Yuri was done, making Viktor quickly shoot up off the bed and begin pacing behind Yuri's chair. "Yuriiii~ I've been looking everywhere! All the people I was able to ask had no idea who I was referring to! He's a courtesan I'm sure. I mean, no dancer ever hides who they are. But I don’t know what to do!” Yuri looked like he was trying to not yell at Viktor, if his deep scowl said anything. Yuri easily blew up at Viktor, though he knew better than to do it in public. But sometimes Yuri had the patience of a saint, indulging his older brother on occasion. Sometimes he let Viktor rant, knowing that it was cathartic for Viktor to complain, even though it took quite a bit of Yuri’s self-control to not lay into his older brother.

Instead, he glared at Viktor before biting out his reply instead of shouting, “Viktor, why do you even care so much? So what if you can’t find him? He was nothing special anyway.” But Viktor had seen the awe on Yuri’s face after Eros had danced. That performance had been special, no matter what Yuri said. 

Lying back on the bed once more, Viktor stretched his arms back, crossing them under his head. His mind wandered to the dance again, seeing the graceful arch of Eros’ body in his mind. He knew Yuri was shaking his head at him, muttering “ _ stupid old man _ ” but Viktor couldn’t have cared less. There was just something about Eros that attracted Viktor to him. Sitting up he began gesticulating at Yuri, his words just as expressive, “Yuriiii~ I know you liked his performance! Did you see that leg extension though, it was so beautif—”

Before he could continue his rant, Yuri quickly held up a hand, stopping him from speaking. His words made the colour drain out of his face. 

“ _ What about Mila?” _

— 

Mila Nikiforov née Babicheva. Originally the daughter of a prominent Boyar but now the Princess of Russia after her marriage to the Crown Prince Viktor Nikiforov. Though it had been a marriage of convenience, it had blossomed into a beautiful friendship. Though he did not love her the way their marriage intended, he did care for her greatly. 

She was a revolutionary to the people of Russia, contesting its strict rules for nobility at every turn. She was graceful and gentle as a well-bred woman was expected to be, yet there wasn't a single nobleman she couldn't charm. Her desire to wear tighter clothing was often a point of contention with the Queen, but to Viktor those were conversations he enjoyed watching. 

As such, Mila was someone he cared about a great deal. But something Viktor had noticed in the past year had terrified him. Their close friendship had developed into a much deeper relationship.

But  _ one-sided.  _

“Nothing.” His face became very grave as he replied to Yuri, “We tell her nothing.” Viktor didn't want to hurt Mila, but he wasn't unaware of his own growing attraction to Eros. Lying, at least for now, was better than the alternative. Luckily, Mila had been away for a visit to her parents’ estate and had missed the dance, but most of all had missed Viktor’s behaviour. He would tell her soon, when he understood what he was feeling better. 

Yuri looked annoyed at him, but Viktor refused to change his mind. Mila was planning on returning the following week, thus he had one more welk to figure out what he was feeling. Of course, as prince, Viktor had watched as many women and men threw themselves at him. Even after his and Mila’s wedding. Some of the more incessant courtiers had been forbidden from coming near Viktor. Particularly the ones who had sent dead animals to Mila. 

But, Viktor had never reciprocated any of their feelings. There had only been those who warmed his bed, but soon they also stopped. Viktor was, unexpectedly, quite naive in the matters of the heart. Sighing, Viktor sat up from the bed, annoyed at his thoughts. While he didn’t regret marrying Mila, he sometimes questioned his decision to get married that early. Viktor had always been the dreamier prince, and this showed in his belief about marriage. He grew up imagining the person he’d spend the rest of his life with. Riding horses with them, dining cheerfully with their parents, and dancing with them at the balls. For some reason, he never saw their face, and even as he grew and the dreams became more sexual in nature, he never knew their gender. His brain never letting him see who it was that would complete him. 

Sighing again, Viktor left Yuri’s room, calling out a distracted goodbye to his annoyed, albeit concerned, younger brother. Walking aimlessly, Viktor found himself heading towards the performer’s housing in the palace. While their rooms were never beautiful, and simply large for the sake of practice but not status, Viktor had always found that this part of the palace was one of the more beautiful areas. There was always music playing, and though the courtesans did not live here, you could usually see one near performance time.

As dancers and musicians walked past him, they nodded in respect, some even stopping and bowing to him. And while he was gracious in accepting their reverence, Viktor felt detached from his usual bubbly behaviour. In a way, he felt very lonely though he was surrounded by his people, his family, and friends. Glancing into some of the rooms, Viktor saw a young girl practicing her spins and jumps. Her family, he assumed, calling out reassuring comments to her as her teacher gently adjusted her legs. 

He smiled gently, leaning against the doorway, laughing lightly to himself when she happily twirled, and clapped softly when her leaps landed well. Her mother noticed him and went to stand to bow, but he shook his head, instead choosing to walk into the room, clapping loudly.

“That was beautiful, little one. You’re a wonderful dancer,  _ zvyozdochka _ .” Her gasp made him smile brighter as he crouched to be at her height. Still smiling he brushed some of the hairs out of her face as he spoke, “do you like dancing?” Her excited nod pulled a laugh out of him. He grinned conspiratorially and stage-whispered to her, “I like dancing too. Do you want to dance with me  _ kukolka _ ?” He looked up at her parents, getting nods of acceptance from them before gracefully standing. 

Holding his hand out for the young girl, he gently began swaying, turning her around the room. As a skater, and royalty, Viktor was well versed in many styles of dance, though he found ballet, often used as a basis in skating, was his favourite. But with the little girl, he stuck with simpler moves, lifting her gently off the ground and spinning her before resting her back down. When she began spinning to the music, he also joined in, laughing at her gleeful giggles. As she danced, Viktor stopped for a second, considering a crazy idea, before following his thoughts and walked over to one of the ladies sitting against the wall. Pulling her up with him, he dragged her into a simple dance, calling out the rest of the men and women in the room. “Let’s dance!”

For the next half-hour, they all danced, relishing in the freedom that came with letting your body be free to move. But after all, all good things must come to an end. Over the music, raucous laughter, and his own heavy breathing, Viktor heard the familiar clearing of his father’s throat coming from behind him. Standing at the doorway, Viktor saw the King scowling at him. Still giddy from dancing, Viktor skipped over to him, shouting, “Hello father! Would you like to come dance with us as well? We’re having loads of fun!” Of course, Viktor didn’t realize that the dancers had already begun packing up their things, not wanting to get into trouble with the king for disrespecting the prince.  

The King, Yakov Nikiforov, simply sighed exasperatedly before speaking, “Vitya, we need to go. You were expected in the court nearly thirty minutes ago for the welcoming of the English delegates. Now let us go.” He held the door open, awaiting Viktor’s exit from the room. Hearing his father speak, Viktor felt a small frown slip onto his face as he thought back to what his personal attendant had told him his schedule for the day was. There was no such thing today as they were only expected the following week. 

Sighing, he turned around to face the anxious dancers. Crouching once more in front of the little girl he held his hand out to her, matching the serious look on her face with one of his own. “It was lovely to spend time with you  _ milaya _ ,” he looked up at the smiling dancers, “with all of you.” Looking back down at the young girl, he poked her cheek before standing up, “Though, it is now time I bid you all  _ adieu _ . I hope that your practice goes well, and thank you for indulging me in this break.” He gave a half bow before turning to face his father. A scowl melted away the joy that had been present on his face as he stalked out of the room. 

He heard the girl laugh and giggle as the door closed pulling a final weak smile onto his face as he glanced at the king. “Why did you lie? The English delegates are not arriving till next week. I have the rest of the day free father. Why would you stop me like that?” Viktor kept his voice even tempered, though there was still some frustration leaking in. 

Yakov simply sighed, rubbing his wizened hand on his forehead before replying, “Viktor, you are the prince. You cannot simply think that it is acceptable to interact with the dancers like this. I was like you as well, wanting to dance and be free with the dancers, but we are different.” He rested a hand on Viktor’s shoulder as he continued, “ We are above them, and we must remain as such. We are  _ royalty _ , and we must behave as such.” Viktor could see the regretful look on his father’s face, but all he heard was that he was not allowed to dance with his people. He could not be comfortable with them.

Glaring, Viktor brushed the hand off his shoulder and stepped back. Nodding swiftly, his voice was harsh as he spoke, “Forgive me if I do not believe you Father. We might be royalty, but we are still people. We are still like them. We are still, in our hearts,  _ Russian _ . And I shall not just stop spending time with my people.” Spinning on his heel, Viktor flounced down the hallway, not paying attention to where he was heading. 

His mood was foul as he walked further down the hallway, ignoring the people who passed by. He could feel the confused stares lingering on his back, but it only fueled his anger. Finally, Viktor stopped walking, and slumped against a wall, taking a surreptitious glance to see that no one was around. Groaning, he held his face in his hands and complained to himself. “Why would father say that, why can’t I dance with them. She was so happy! Why couldn’t I go enjoy myself. I wasn’t promising anything to them, nor was I giving up anything to be there. There was only positives.”

He pushed himself away from the wall, and began pacing the length of the passageway. “I mean...I gain the respect of the people this way don’t I? Why do we have to keep ourselves away from them? Father even said that he did the same. So why should I stop?!” 

Scowling he leaned against the wall once more, letting his mind drift as his anger soon melted into annoyance and then disappointment. He already knew that no matter how much he fought, the king would stop his every move to spend time with the dancers. There was nothing he could do to change his father’s mind. Viktor might have gotten his mother’s grace and emotional strength, but he had definitely gotten his father’s stubbornness. 

As he stood there, alone and contemplating what he would say to his father, Viktor slowly heard the strains of music floating through the air. A familiar song,  _ Eros’ _ song to be specific. Eyes widening, Viktor quickly looked around, and began walking towards the source of the music. Stopping in front of a closed door, Viktor noticed that it was a dancer’s room and not the usual dance rooms a courtesan used. Perhaps the man was dancing with someone else? Many dancers did that for advice and support.

Slowly easing the door open, Viktor thanked his lucky stars that the door didn’t make a sound. Inside, he was overjoyed to see the person of his interest and affection dancing carefree to the music that had attracted Viktor so easily. However, now there was a freeness in his motions that was completely different from the performance he’d given previously. He held a gasp in as he pushed the door open more, allowing him to slip into the room without the dancer’s knowledge.

_ Found you! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support I got last chapter from all my friends! You're all so lovely!! <3 
> 
> I'm sorry this took so long to come out, I've been cramming for midterms and now that I'm finally done those, hopefully till finals I'll be able to stick with my every other monday chapter idea??? we'll see.
> 
> Let me know how you think I did below!!! I'd really appreciate critiques, or comments in general! Let me know if a dance move was described incorrectly, if you think a character wasn't described well, or even if you'd like to see anything included! I know I made Yakov out to be the bad guy here but I promise it'll be fixed! He has a reason!! I also needed someone to do this xD
> 
> As well, let me know if the Russian words I used were incorrect/incorrectly used! I don't know any Russian so I'm going off of google and how other writers string words in!
> 
>  _Kukolka_ = little doll  
>  _Zvyozdochka_ = little star  
>  _Milaya_ = dear heart
> 
> Oh and again thank you so much to my wonderful Betas who were willing to put up with my ridiculously awkward lines and random tense switching <3 you're the best! ([@yourplisetsky](http://yourplisetsky.tumblr.com)/[Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/seaworn/pseuds/seaworn) and [@daiyanodumpster](http://daiyanodumpster.tumblr.com)/[Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/doeinstinct))
> 
> Come hit me up at my [writing blog!](http://rayraywrites.tumblr.com) or my [main blog](http://rayrayswimusic.tumblr.com)


	3. Tour Piqué

Breathing heavily, he lowered his leg to the ground, sliding down to sit on the floor. His chest was still heaving as he leaned back and laid down fully. Exhausted, Yuuri closed his eyes for a few minutes, letting himself go through the dance mentally. Unconsciously, his hands reached out in front of him as they began going through the familiar motions, moving lazily as he let his thoughts drift. His legs were splayed on the ground, tensing and relaxing in time with the song only he could hear in his head. 

Slowly pulling himself into a sitting position, Yuuri stretched his legs out, leaning forward to feel the pleasurable burn in his legs as he arched his feet downwards, pointing his toes. His hands cupped the tips of his toes, pulling his body into a deeper stretch. Focussing on only one of his legs, he shifted the other to the side. Bending at the waist, he arched over the one leg, pressing his forehead to his knee. Resting there, Yuuri smiled to himself, remembering his initial hatred of stretching as a boy, but now seeing the extreme importance of the actions.

His first performance of the piece had gone quite well, though thanks to Chris and Phichit he knew what to work on before the next performance. They had said that his emotions had been expressed beautifully, and remembering his thoughts as he had danced  _ for _ the prince, Yuuri had to agree. He had become the embodiment of the seductress, come to tempt the prince with her wiles. But to his chagrin, his foot placement left much to be desired. During that first performance, he wasn’t sure if the nerves he felt before had remained in his feet as they had been slipping slightly as he danced, and to his horror, one of his final leaps had ended quite badly.

During his final grand jeté Yuuri had come down quite hard on his left leg, and though there had been no real damage to his leg, the force had been quite jarring for him. In fact, it had taken all of Yuuri’s focus to not show the pain he had felt. As his leg had been sore from the sudden impact, Yuuri was careful, even now after a few weeks, when he stretched to always go over his legs and how they felt. He never wanted to bow out of the dance industry thanks to a careless leap.

Standing up slowly, Yuuri walked to the center of the room, nodding towards the pianist to begin playing. As he waited for the song to start, he cocked his hip, letting himself fall into the mindset the song required. Having practice the piece so many times, Yuuri’s arms instinctively knew when to swing around, and when to wrap themselves around his body. 

Reaching a crucial point in the final cadenza, Yuuri breathed deeply, ready to finish the performance, he stepped forward with his right foot en demi-pointe onto a straight leg, quickly turning inwards. His left leg lifted up into passé, as he moved around the room in a circular movement. As the piqué turns finished, Yuuri spun into a few fouettés as the song ended.

When the song was finally completed, Yuuri’s arms were wrapped tightly around his torso. Breathing deeply, he felt his heart pounding from how hard he had exerted himself. Dropping his arms to the side, Yuuri relaxed his body, resting his hands on his hips. 

“ _ Whoo... _ that was fun” Yuuri chuckled to himself slightly, before turning towards the pianist, “Arima-san, would you mind starting near the ending again? When I start my fouetté turns? I’d like to try and extend my leg a bit further for the starting turn.” When he saw the pianist nod, Yuuri moved back to the middle of the room, standing in third position. 

Yuuri began practicing those final turns over and over, determined to make his movements cleaner than before. He wanted to make his transition into the final fouettés smoother and overall make the ending more polished. He could feel himself getting lost into the music, and struggled to stay focussed on the choreographed piece and not just let himself go. He was so focused on the dancing that Yuuri didn’t notice that it was no longer just him and Arima-san in the room. 

As he usually danced with his eyes closed, Yuuri wasn’t aware that anyone had entered the room, however, he had the vague feeling that there was an extra pair of eyes on him. He despised stopping in the middle of a performance, whether it was on stage or by himself, so he continued dancing. In a way, it annoyed him that someone was entering a room that clearly wasn’t theirs to enter at that moment, but he wasn’t one to outwardly complain to others.

Determined to ignore them, he kept dancing, but as the song began winding down, Yuuri’s eyes fluttered open, and saw the shock on Arima-san’s face. Confused at the shock, Yuuri finally stopped moving, turning when he heard boisterous clapping from behind him. But instead of the courtier or servant he expected to see, or even Phichit, it was Prince Viktor.

“Your h-highness!? What are you doing here? I mean of course you’re allowed to be here, seeing as this is your family’s palace and all, b-but why now? I'm sorry, was I not supposed to be in here?” Yuuri would have continued rambling had the Prince not held up a hand to stop him from speaking.

Prince Viktor blinked owlishly at him, bewildering Yuuri as the prince seemed to struggle with what to say. Schooling his features into a blank face, Yuuri waited patiently as the Prince struggled to speak. Finally, when it seemed his patience was about to break, Prince Viktor spoke.

“Forgive me for the intrusion, it...I have been looking for you for three weeks now.” Yuuri was further confused when, breaking all proper protocol, the Prince licked his lips nervously and fiddled with his hands.

Blushing brightly , Yuuri replied slowly, “why were you looking for me? Was there something I can do for you?” There was something so innocent and naive about the Prince’s behaviour that made Yuuri very curious. Everything he’d heard about the Prince was that he was kind and beautiful, yet also cold. No one seemed to get close to Prince Viktor, and even those who were considered family were apparently kept at a distance. 

Though Yuuri wasn’t one to pry into another’s life, he’d been curious about the prince for a few years. However, according to Phichit, it was beyond curiosity and much closer to a crush. But, he couldn’t help it, there was just something so unique about the  _ Living Legend  _ who lived and breathed the characters he portrayed on the ice, but the minute he stepped off it was as if a switch was flipped. He was still the epitome of grace and elegance, but all his emotions became colder, fake and impenetrable. Prince Viktor was an enigma to Yuuri, and one he hoped he’d be able to crack.

Foolishly, when Yuuri had stepped into Russia, he’d toyed with the idea of possibly getting to know the Prince, but that was quickly dashed when he heard from the other dancers how the Royal family kept themselves aloof, and away from the dancers. 

Viktor seemed to collect himself, pulling all his emotions back under control. His smile lessened, almost disappearing, and nearly became a frown. However, before it could completely switch, his lips spread across his face once more, but to Yuuri, this time it looked fake, almost fish-like in comparison. He struggled to hide his wince at how fake the Prince became, but he knew there was nothing he could do in this situation. When Viktor tilted his head down, the beginning of a bow, Yuuri’s eyes widened before he slipped into a deeper bow quickly.

“Please don’t bow to me, I’m not here as the prince, not really at least.” Yuuri paused at Viktor’s words, confusion coating his face as he froze in his half-bow. As a dancer, he’d already performed for Japanese Royalty once before, and even there, he was almost always bowing, often even in  _ dogeza _ to show respect to the Emperor.

Standing upright, Yuuri allowed himself the nod of acknowledgement before he let Prince Viktor continue speaking. “I was fascinated by your performance from a few weeks ago. But even moreso when you did not give your name, and only a  _ nom de theatre _ to identify yourself. It was a most intriguing performance, and if you would do me the honour and privilege of bestowing upon me your true name, I’d be very grateful.” 

To Yuuri’s continued astonishment Viktor actually proceeded to give him a half-bow, a courtesy only the lesser lords and princes received. Never a lowly dancer. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Yuuri glanced away before replying. “I,  _ erm _ , I mean, thank you for your interest and compliment to my dancing  _ Your Majesty _ .” Slipping into a ballerina’s bow, Yuuri crouched at the floor, tilting his head downwards but was careful to keep his knees from touching the ground as he continued speaking. “Your graciousness is truly appreciated. My name,” he slowly stood up, placing his hands behind his body while smiling softly at the Prince.

“Is Yuuri Katsuki, your highness.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter! I hope you liked it! I know this took a while to come out, and is quite a bit shorter then normal, but I just finished final exams for the semester (ik the last time I posted I had midterms...I don't get the organization of my university either) xD
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you liked this short chapter, and hopefully I'll be able to get a more plot based chapter out soon :) Probably in Viktor's pov? 
> 
> Let me know what you thought below! I'd love to hear what you think :)
> 
> And thank you so much to my absolutely amazing betas [@v-k-niliforv](http://v-k-niliforv.tumblr.com)/[@daiyanodumpster](http://daiyanodumpster.tumblr.com)/[Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/doeinstinct) and [@yourplisetsky](http://yourplisetsky.tumblr.com)/[Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/seaworn)
> 
> Come hit me up at my [writing blog](http://rayraywrites.tumblr.com) or my [main blog](http://rayrayswimusic.tumblr.com)


	4. Balletomane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A century and a half later....

_ “My name is Yuuri Katsuki, your highness.” _

Hearing his name felt as if a veil was lifted from his eyes, leaving Viktor relieved but still hesitant. Though he desperately wanted to get to know Yuuri, there was still the barrier between royalty and commoner that he could not breach. He  _ should not _ . 

The more he glanced at Yuuri, the stronger the words his father had spoken reverberated in his head. 

_ “We are above them,”  _ there was a note of reluctance in the gruff voice, even as it had continued, “ _ we are Royalty.”  _

Viktor knew that it was not meant to be a slight to the dancers, to their people, but in his heart he had been cut deep from those words.  Though he rarely found himself down in the lower town, Viktor took his responsibilities to them very seriously. The fact that his father, and by extension the royal family forbade him from interacting with the most beautiful part of his kingdom was baffling. 

With grace that only years of etiquette and skating could instill, Viktor slipped into a second bow, this one much less ornate than first for it lacked the pomp and show of a royal bow. This one was from an admirer to the person of his affections. In very rare cases was this bow used. 

_ And Yura had questioned his strange fascination with the variety of greetings possible.  _

Rising out of the bow, he saw a that a beautiful blush had spread across Yuuri’s face. The dancer was once again babbling about how Viktor shouldn’t be bowing to him, and what if someone walked in. Seeing that Yuuri’s hands were flying around, Viktor decided to simply grab onto them. That stilled Yuuri, his muscles frozen as he waited for Viktor to do something. 

For a couple of seconds, Viktor simply held on, his reserved smile melting into an excited one as he remembered seeing the very same hands glide and move around in Yuuri’s dance. Seeing the hesitation in Yuuri’s face, Viktor lost all sense of propriety and began regaling the dancer about his own view of the dance.

“I absolutely adored your dance Yuuri~! It was stunning, and a masterful choreography. In fact, if it wasn’t for the different steps, I’d almost have thought it was similar to my own routine from a few years ago.” Viktor had performed a more...risque...skating routine then was necessarily expected for a prince, but it had been one he had refused to regret. Of course, that was before he’d been officially given the title of crown prince. Viktor was not allowed to express himself the way he had been before. His desire to surprise had to be stamped down for his position. 

As Yuuri’s blush deepened, Viktor found himself smirking lightly.  _ Bingo! _ He had noticed the similarity, even with the change in music, but had been sure he’d been mistaken. Seeing that Yuuri’s head was tilted down, as if he was afraid Viktor was upset with him, he decided to ignore his father’s wishes once more. Lifting a hand, he placed it under Yuuri’s chin and tilted his head up slightly. Stepping a little closer, Viktor smiled softly, before speaking.

“If it would please you, might I request a couple moments of your time another day? For how long will you be remaining in our land?” He smiled impishly when the blush spread down his neck, wrapping his collarbones like a scarf. For a moment, Viktor could feel Yuuri hesitate, his head shaking as if he wanted to leave Viktor’s grasp. But then it steadied. 

With a shark inhale, Yuuri backed away from Viktor, bowing deeply at the waist. As a way to remind the two of them, his station, he replied with his hands carefully behind his back, “your highness’ interest in myself is flattering itself, but to be seen with a humble dancer?” 

The statement ended as a question, one even Viktor wasn’t sure he knew the answer to. But yet, there was a pull towards Yuuri that he had never felt in anyone else. As a boy, Viktor had always found himself more interested in learning to duel with knights, or to run around with his playmates - all of whom were boys. But as he grew, when courting dates began, he had found himself spending more and more time with the fairer sex in his kingdom. Ladies of the court, and their daughters were brought before him, presenting themselves as adequate candidates for his interest.

He had shown none any interest beyond a cursory purview of who they were. But with Yuuri, he found himself lost in the dancer’s eyes, in his skills, in his smile. So he answered in the way that filled his heart, rather than the propriety that Yuuri was giving him the chance to fall back into. Stepping back into Yuuri’s space, Viktor allowed the smile on his face to widen as he responded.

“My apologies to presume anything, however I do believe you intend to say no for the sake of myself. Let me dissuade you from this course of action and impress upon you the sincerity of my desire.” He raised his hand to rest briefly on Yuuri’s face before dropping it and stepping back. He watched Yuuri’s tensed shoulders relax as Viktor kept speaking. “Let me get to know you a bit better, perhaps over a meal. Have you been riding before Yuuri? We pride ourselves on living in the steppe for it is a gentle introduction to most beginner, and even experienced riders.” 

Slowly, Viktor managed to coax out an affirmation from Yuuri, though the idea of a picnic was immediately shot down – Yuuri wasn’t comfortable with the thought of someone possibly seeing them together, even for something as tame as a meal. Viktor’s other ideas of meal in his own quarters, or with the royal family were of course then shot down. Finally when he could see that Yuuri was about to refuse everything, Viktor thought of his last idea, though he hesitated to say it for obvious reasons. Realizing that if he really wanted to get to know Yuuri better, Viktor would have to step outside of his small world view. 

“Perhaps, we could dine in your quarters? I would love to meet you, as well as the rest of the dance troupe?” Viktor could see that this option would fit the best, for while Yuuri still looked uncomfortable, the relief in his eyes was visible. 

So with a wide smile, Viktor stepped away and gave a small bow. “Then, very well met Yuuri Katsuki.” He began walking to the door before calling out, “I shall be at your chambers when the sun is but a glimmer in the sky.” He laughed a little when he saw the surprise on Yuuri’s face but that turned into a soft smile when he heard a warm farewell in response. 

_ “Until then, my prince.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry I haven't updated this in a long time! I've been really busy with other projects and university has just gotten so busy. But I finally managed to pull together a quick chapter? I'm hoping that I can use my small breaks while studying for finals to write the next chapter :D
> 
> Hope you're still enjoying the story!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it and I'd love to see any critiques or comments in general! This is a challenge for me to be truthful! Never full on attempted to write such a long story! 
> 
> Message me at my blogs!
> 
> Main: [@rayrayswimusic](http://rayrayswimusic.tumblr.com)  
> Writing: [@rayraywrites](http://rayraywrites.tumblr.com)


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